Two Hours and Fifty Two Minutes

The conversations that were filled with nothing, but meaning everything, began when I went to boarding school. I would gather the 20 cent pieces from the side of my school bag and make my way through the poorly lit corridors towards the office. When I wasn’t ringing her, she was ringing me, a voice would carry through the stairwell “phone call for Kirsty Riiiiiiiiiiiiiice”.

“How are you?”

“Good”

“How’s school?”

“Good”

“Did you manage to buy a new shirt?”

“Yep”

My questions in return were “how’s the dog?” and “did we win the football?” All the while I’d be picturing my childhood home, my bedroom, the posters on the wall and the blossoms that would be in full bloom outside my bedroom window. My homesickness subsided with the feeling that I was there, I wasn’t missing a thing.

A care package would arrive with a pair of wooly socks for the winter, a bag of lollies and a newspaper with the sporting results from the weekend. I’d scan all of the pictures looking for clues on the life that was going on without me.

When I finished school the phone calls continued. I began work and moved house several times, but the regularity stayed the same. Invariably I needed help, I was hopeless. Something was always about to get cut off, the phone, the electricity, the rent was overdue. The requests for help were staccatos in a banal chorus of “have you been back to the dentist” and “when does Dad get his new car”.

When I moved interstate the phone calls were made late at night for cheaper rates. I would walk in to the bedroom with a glowing red cauliflower ear after talking for over an hour, sometimes two. With a look of disbelief G would ask”What do you two talk about?”

When I was completely lost, new in Libya without a car, a phone or a friend to talk to, she would send me emails to match our calls. She’d planted petunias, a tree had fallen down in the backyard, the dog next door had finally disappeared and Barry from work was going in for an operation next week. “Do you remember the Smith boy, he married the girl from Woolworths, they’re having a baby.” In the absence of care packages my news was now coming via daily email. She knew I was struggling, she knew I needed the ordinary, the everyday; nothing too deep, nothing to thoughtful, just enough to hang on. Keep going, one foot in front of the other.

Yesterday, after two hours and fifty two minutes of nothing but everything, I said goodbye. I had eaten lunch, gone through some paperwork and made a coffee while we chatted. And although it was nothing it was very much everything. She was right there, close enough to disagree with, close enough to giggle over the mispronouncing of a name. When you have lived with the distance, you understand how close it can make you feel.

After two hours and fifty two minutes, of nothing but everything, I forgot to say what I rang for.

Happy Mothers Day Mum.

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/02744937536946299450 liz fenwick

    those calls are so important!
    lx

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/07585882466695145340 Young at Heart

    how wonderful long distance can sometimes make one closer than being close up!!

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/00730557217264985056 manycoloured-days

    thank God for the Estonians

    • http://www.blogger.com/profile/15026987107815016616 4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle

      okay, I’ve had a think about this and I am very embarrassed to admit that I have no idea what “thank God for the Estonians” means. Please put me out of my misery 🙂

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/09543258551991778888 mamabook

    On our first stint in California we used to have these long long phone calls. Especially after I had my babies. This time around, somehow the phone calls are not as regular or as long as they should be. Timezones seem to be working against us and our ridiculous attempts at free calling (hello viber) has made phone calls frustrating as we get cut off every 5 minutes! I now just want a phone like the one in the picture. Plugged into the wall, no battery issues and being charged by the minute.
    Michelle

  • http://sziasteph.wordpress.com/ sziasteph

    Beautifully written.

    My Mum said to me the other day on the phone, “it’s just like you’re in Melbourne when I talk to you like this,” and I choked up. It was hard to pull myself together, because I think if I’d started, she’d have cried too!

    • http://www.blogger.com/profile/15026987107815016616 4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle

      oh yes! I know that feeling well. xx

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/12734450335251336493 Linda Sand

    My daughter and I have those calls. Would surely miss them if they stopped.

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/06483003532396329746 rex

    Lovely Kirsty. Very sweet. x

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/12124831265480163064 wsb

    Beautiful sentiments – can definitely relate x

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/11175566681652761270 Lydia La La

    That is so lovely to read and I hope you had a great Mother’s Day yourself. xo

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/17798190669591053390 Expat mum

    Very nice post. I’m going “home” in a couple of weeks, and as my mum gets older, she isn’t coming over to the States as much. I haven’t seen her since last July. Today she was so excited and kept saying “I’ve missed you SO much”. Sob.

    • http://www.blogger.com/profile/15026987107815016616 4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle

      We used to go home quite a bit when we were living in Asia, less so in Libya and once a year when we were in the US, it was like we slowly weaned ourselves. It doesn’t change how you feel it’s just how it is. Have a fantastic time at “home”. Enjoy xx

  • http://darlenefoster.wordpress.com/ darlenefoster

    You obviously have a great relationship with your mom. I have a feeling that is why you are such a wonderful mom! Happy belated Mother’s day to you.

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/08209595384194222929 scaryazeri

    Sounds exactly like my hours on skype with my mum. So lovely.

  • http://www.adventuresinexpatland.com/ linda@adventuresinexpatland.com

    Lovely post. You didn’t need to say those words; your phone call said it all.

    I’m with you: what’s up with ‘Thank God for the Estonians’??

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/16904240359698373279 Gina

    Thank God for cheap international calling cards!
    I have had many a long phonecall across the seas and then am unable to justify to my lovely hubby what actual “news” I have to report afterwards!